


The Teind

by Imane Nikko (imane_nikko)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, Tam Lin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-06-28 05:32:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19805767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imane_nikko/pseuds/Imane%20Nikko
Summary: Hermione walks into the woods surrounding Malfoy Manor and discovers that there is much more to the magical world than Hogwarts ever taught her.





	1. Into the Woods

CHAPTER 1

After the war was over, Lucius Malfoy did his practical ancestors proud: he turned against the surviving Death Eaters and helped the Ministry to round them up. For his predictable, if not particularly loyal, service he was allowed to retain ownership of Malfoy Manor... on one condition. Every year, the Malfoys were required to pay a special tax to remind them of the folly of their ways. The magical contract ensured the Ministry a steady stream of Galleons... or the Manor, should the family forfeit.

The first ten payments were made in full and on time, but it was a peculiar thing. After the first few years, rather than Galleons it was a pile of raw gold, tiny flecks, twisted horns, crystalline shapes. Nuggets like leaves, like hands, like beaks and claws. The Gringotts Goblins said they had never seen such a thing, but they accepted it eagerly enough and changed it into Galleons for the Ministry. If anyone had been paying attention, they might have wondered about the eagerness. But then, if anyone had been paying attention, they might have noticed that although everyone had heard he’d gone abroad some time after the war, no one had actually _seen_ Draco Malfoy in years.

~ ~ ~

There was an air of anticipation around the Ministry which Hermione felt was a bit distasteful. In previous years, the Malfoy tax had arrived in small installments over the course of many months, but the end of the year was fast approaching and there had still been no delivery of gold. Lucius Malfoy was lying low and Narcissa hadn’t been seen in public in more than six years, when she’d appeared at a May Day celebration looking positively haunted.

The feeling in the Ministry was that the Malfoy estate would be forfeit at last. The grounds alone, within an easy walk of the Avebury Standing Stones, were valuable property, and she’d caught a Minister literally rubbing his hands together during a conversation about the Manor itself and all the treasures and enchantments sure to be located within.

Minister Figwhistle approached Hermione as she was finishing up and asked her to go to the Malfoy grounds to “just take a look around, you know, see if there are any signs of life.” She barely prevented herself from rolling her eyes and agreed. She admitted being a bit curious herself. After the tenaciousness he’d shown, it wasn’t like Lucius Malfoy to let his family home slip through his fingers. Anyway, the region was well known for the quality of its magical plants.There were worse things than spending a working day walking through the woods, and if she could harvest some fresh ingredients, so much the better.

~ ~ ~

The day dawned fine, a pleasant autumn day of the type that always seems to happen in idyllic memory and is so rare in actual life. The leaves were flushed with colour and made a brilliant, crackling carpet underfoot. Hermione took the Floo to a local Wizarding pub and followed the road up to the edge of the estate. The grounds really were a mere stone’s throw from Avebury, concealed by a truly elegant charm. To Muggle eyes, a hedgerow; to Hermione’s dazzled ones, a vast park, wooded and overgrown. The gate swung open at her touch, and she waited inside for twenty minutes until it was certain that no one from the house was coming down to greet her.

She started up the path but only a few steps in she began to remember coming this way before, very much against her will, and came to a halt on the white gravel. Turning away from the house, she started walking west toward the woods. There was no reason to begin with the hard part. She’d make a tour and see the land the Ministry was so hoping to acquire.

After an hour of walking, Hermione realized that the wood was much larger than she’d supposed. She had lost sight of the house, far off to her right, and it seemed she was no closer to the western edge of the estate. Before her there were only trees, not a glimpse of the tame Muggle fields that should lie beyond. It was very quiet among the trees, with only the sounds of her own footfalls and crying birds to break the silence. The sky, where she could see it through the brilliant leaves, was bright and cloudless.

She began humming to keep herself company, stopping now and then to pluck a clump of elderberries from a bush or pull up a hyssop by the roots and put them into the bag she’d brought with her, just in case.

This was pleasant work, and time passed almost without her knowing it. She was startled to find the sky darkening a bit overhead; she’d not even had a chance to get hungry. There was still no sign of the edge of the woods. After all that walking, there was no way she’d be able to retrace her steps before it got dark, so she pulled out her wand and prepared to Apparate home.

At that moment, the woods seemed to grow still and watchful. From a thick clump of trees ahead, there was a sudden rustling, and then the sound of music, a thin thread of melody like a distant pipe or flute.

Hermione was too startled to feel anything but wonder. Here was a sign of life she could report! Abandoning her plan to leave, she hurried forward, chasing the song. The hidden piper was elusive, and she plunged deeper into the woods without catching a glimpse. The leaves and twigs plucked at her as she passed, catching in her hair.

Suddenly, almost at her feet, she saw a figure on the ground, its slim green foot caught by a root. It was small, maybe the size of a twelve-year-old child. She bent down without thinking and gently untangled the foot. Its owner sprang to its feet and stared at her with wild yellow eyes, like a cat’s in a human face.

Hermione held her hands out to the side to show she was no threat, speaking softly so as not to startle it. This was a creature they’d never studied at Hogwarts, and yet she recognized it **—** recognized it from Muggle books, the kind her parents had read to her before they realized what she was. It had pointed ears and mottled brown hair, and if it had closed its eyes it would have almost disappeared into the woods around them. Hermione couldn’t believe it **—** why had no one ever told her that faeries really existed?

“I don’t mean you any harm,” Hermione said, “I only liked the sound of your playing.” She made a slow gesture to the pipe in the being’s hand. “It’s beautiful.”

The faery gave her a big smile, which lasted a beat too long and didn’t quite reach those yellow eyes. “You have done me a service,” it said, with no inflection. Then it tilted its head. “How did you come here?” it continued, unblinking.

“I was walking in the woods,” Hermione said honestly, “looking for the edge. I found you before I found it **—** these woods must be very large indeed.”

“As large as the world,” answered the faery. “Now come with me. You have done me a service. We do not leave debts unpaid.” So saying, it held its hand out to Hermione, and after a moment’s hesitation she took it. It was something like having her hand held by a bunch of sticks **—** not dry sticks, but fresh ones with the sap coursing through them, cool to the touch.

It led her through the forest until they arrived at a small clearing, where the blue twilight sky made a roof overhead and the dark trees shivered around them. After a moment’s pause, the forest began to rustle, as figures materialised out of the darkness.

Some were like Hermione’s guide, but others had hair as red as an autumn oak leaf, or skin as dark and cracked as a rotting stump. Some were nearly human and very beautiful, their skin gleaming in the dark and their hair silver or copper or glossy raven’s-wing black. They were speaking to each other and Hermione felt like she was hearing different things with each ear, human language in one and a cacophony of insects in the other. It was very unsettling.

One faery stood out from the rest, a beautiful female with a delicate crown on her head, her clothing as soft as mist at dawn. She held out a slender hand to Hermione in greeting.

“Welcome, human,” she said. “Welcome, witch,” she continued, gesturing at Hermione’s wand, still held in her hand. “You have done my subject a service,” she said, unquestioning.

“It was a very small thing,” Hermione answered politely, but the faery’s face grew hard.

“‘It was a very small thing, _your majesty_ ,’” she corrected.

“Of course,” Hermione said hastily. “Forgive me, I did not know your rank.”

This did not appear to please the Queen any better than the first statement had. Her eyes were colder, but all she said was, “You must have a gift in return. We do not leave our debts unpaid.” Gesturing to Hermione to approach, she stretched out a finger and pulled open the bag of gathered plants, reaching in and lifting out the roots and berries. In her hands the black elderberries and dark roots seemed to glow and shift, until she was holding a double handful of irregularly-shaped gold. Smiling slightly, she released the nuggets into the bag, where they clinked together heavily.

Hermione felt that there was something about this that should be bothering her, but she couldn’t seem to remember. The music was playing again around her, or maybe it was the drone of insects, and it was confusing. The faery was looking at her with a pleased expression on her face. 

“You may leave us,” she said, waving a hand. “And if you will, you may come again. Soon we will have a feast such as mortals never see. You will be our guest, if you can find us here once more.”

Hermione lifted her wand and prepared once again to Apparate, but could not summon the proper discipline of mind. She looked at her own hand holding the wand, as if that could help her. Closing her eyes, she tried again, but the spell got all tangled in her head. _Deliberation, Destination... what? Delimitation? Wait, do I start with Destination or Deliberation?_ It was like one of her nightmares before exams, except with an alien crowd witnessing her humiliation.

A voice cut through the humming crowd, pure human speech with no insectile echo. “If she’s to come back, she needs to _leave_ first. Let me guide her to the edge of the wood.”

Hermione opened her eyes to look for the speaker, finding him at the edge of the group. He appeared almost full human, but for the intense pallor of his skin and his silver eyes and hair. She almost felt she should know him.

The faery queen nodded her head, granting permission, and he came to stand next to Hermione. “Take my arm,” he commanded, holding out a gray sleeve intricately embroidered in silver lines so delicate that they could have been stitched in frost. She laid her hand on it gently, almost expecting it to be cold, but unlike the faery who had brought her here, he seemed to produce human warmth. “Come,” he said, giving a slight pull, and together they walked into the woods.

The music began to fade behind them until Hermione wasn’t sure whether she could still hear it or whether it was just the lingering voices of night insects and the sleepy calls of birds. The sky was still faintly blue overhead, with occasional stars peeking through. Her guide was completely silent.

The farther they walked, the more familiar he became. She felt her mind clearing with each step, until they came to the edge of the trees and a pale gravel road appeared through the saplings at the forest border. She started to take a step forward, onto the grass, but her companion gave a sharp tug at her arm.

“Stop! She gave you a gift!”

“Yes?”

“You mustn’t take it. The only way to be safe is to keep the debt.”

Hermione squinted at him, her mind finally putting him into the right context, into this park, into the house silhouetted behind her.

“Draco Malfoy?”

“Yes,” he said impatiently. “Of course. Now do as I tell you. Open that bag and return the gift to the forest. You can’t take it with you.”

“Why should you help me?” she demanded. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

He gave her a stark look, pale as moon, bloodless. “You’re trusting the only human you’ve met today, Hermione. Not me, not Draco. Trust your own kind.”

She met his eyes, then deliberately removed the bag and upended it. A shower of gold spilled out onto the ground at her feet, gleaming among the fallen leaves. She took a step back in surprise, because it shone too brilliantly even for gold. The light caught the red of the leaves and outlined them, and suddenly she was taking another great step back as she realized the nuggets weren’t gold at all but burning embers.

_“Aguamenti!”_ she cried, soaking the ground around the gold to prevent the fire from spreading. It flared up quickly, pushing the forest into full black as her eyes adjusted to the bright light, striking sparks off the man still standing and watching her.

He looked odd, but that was probably the clothes. Or perhaps it was the expression, not aloof or scornful but somehow full of longing. She took a shaky breath and nodded at the fire.

“Thank you.”

“You made the queen angry **—** she always repays her debts, and she always exacts her price. It was elegant, the gold repayment for the first debt transforming into the penalty for insolence. If you had taken that home, it would have remained gold until you slept.”

“You seem to know a lot about her.”

“More than I wish I did. But not enough, at least not in time.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not your concern, Hermione. Go home. Stay out of these woods.”

“But... I owe you. For the guidance, for saving me from the fire. You have to let me repay you.”

“I’m not one of the fae,” he answered harshly, his face twisting a bit at the words. “But if you want to repay me... you could tell my mother I... that I love her. And that I’m sorry.”

“That’s hardly... what are you doing in these woods, Draco? Where have you been all these years?”

He just shook his head, already stepping back into the trees. “It’s too late, Hermione. Leave it be. Just tell my mother, would you?”

“Of course I’ll tell her,” she answered, and just caught the edge of a relieved smile as he disappeared among the trees. She considered running after him, but it seemed unwise to go chasing into the woods at dark. Somehow she thought these trees would not let her go so easily a second time.

She watched the fire die down, then raised her wand. Destination, Determination, and _Deliberation_. Of _course_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who know the story of Tam Lin may be getting a familiar feeling from this opening chapter...
> 
> Medieval Baebes' version of the ballad inspired the feeling of this story:  
> https://youtu.be/OTN7kn1UjuU
> 
> I imagine faery gold looking something like this:  
> http://nevada-outback-gems.com/prospect/gold_specimen/Natural_gold.htm


	2. Into the Library

Hermione made her way to the library at Hogwarts the next day. She had stayed in touch with Madam Pince, and the library was truly fine. Besides, she liked having the chance to wander the halls, free of the burdens of childhood. She spent several nostalgic but fruitless hours in the stacks. The books on fairies only spoke about the simple creatures that wizards sometimes used for decoration, and there was no mention of the Fae in a form like the beings she had met. Frustrated, she walked to the headmistress’s office, where the gargoyle smirked in recognition and let her in without even requiring a password. She’d been a regular visitor over the years, ever since Minerva McGonagall had accepted the job. It was a great pleasure to have a cup of tea with her former professor, and Hermione took every chance she got.

Unfortunately, there was no sign of her. Hermione sat in a chair near the desk, pondering the puzzle before her. What was Draco doing in those woods? Why had she never heard at Hogwarts that the wild court was real? Despite these omissions, the evidence of her eyes was incontrovertible. She had believed in magic despite having been told her whole childhood it was just pretend. Faeries were no more improbable.

She saw a flicker of motion out of the corner of her eye, and discovered the portrait of Albus Dumbledore looking at her, uncharacteristically awake and twinkling.

“Hello, Professor,” she said politely.

“Hermione Granger,” he replied. “You look as if you’re working on a particularly thorny problem.”

“I am, sir. I’m wondering about my education here... is there a possibility some things were left out?”

“Left out to dry, like socks after the rain, perhaps,” the portrait answered. “Left out in the sun, like a stained shirt.”

Hermione smiled. “Left out like two children in the woods, more like,” she said, playing along. “Left out like a trail of breadcrumbs.”

Dumbledore’s painted eyes widened. “If you’re talking about what I think you are, young woman, I advise you to be careful. Be sure your bread crumbs lead you back into the sunlight, and not to a candy house.” He winked at her, then closed his eyes, sinking back into his chair.

The trail of facts was clear to her, though. She knew she’d seen what she’d seen. And that meant the Malfoys had been paying their tax with faery gold for six years. They must have made some kind of bargain with the faery queen. She recalled the beautiful fae’s insistence on repaying debts... how had the Malfoys repaid her? What could wizards possibly have to trade with a faery court? She remembered her terror as a child when her mother read to her about changelings, the human children faeries took away under their hills. The only thing the fae seemed to want in the old stories, apart from the distraction of tormenting and beguiling mortals, was human prisoners. Was Draco trapped there? She had to get back and ask him. That cold gathering was no place for a human, not even one like Malfoy. She just had to wait long enough to make a few simple preparations.

~ ~ ~

Hermione walked into the woods, trying to retrace her previous path, but after only an hour or two of walking she reached the edge of the park. She could see autumn fields beyond, a scattering of houses, cars driving past. She shook her head, confused. The last time she’d come this way, it had truly been as though the forest was as big as the world, just like the first fae creature had said.

“I need to get lost,” she muttered to herself, then turned toward the darkest part of the woods she could see and entered it deliberately, emptying her mind and allowing herself to wander. Eventually she began to hum as she had the first time, allowing the pitch to bend and shift as she remembered the faerie music had done. The twilight fell as she was still walking when at last she saw a flickering deep in the woods. It was ghostly, a green-gold flash that came and went in a rhythmic pattern.

She followed the light, stumbling, and all at once found herself in a familiar clearing. All around her whirled fantastically dressed figures, some wearing the fur of unknown beasts, one draped in a shimmering dress of translucent mayfly wings that shivered like sequins and displayed the curve of a breast or a shadow of navel before a wing would flash and the body beneath receded into concealment. There were creatures with the heads of deer, or hooved feet, a woman scaled like a snake, and the faery queen at the center of it all, dancing with the others in wild abandon.

Draco was there too, dancing like all the rest, but his face showed some strain, like he didn’t move entirely of his own will. For that matter, now that she thought about it, Hermione herself was dancing. She could choose where to move but had little choice as to how; without willing it her feet were leaping, her arms making sweeps around her hips and head.

She moved towards Draco and placed herself in front of him. When he recognised her, his face became so pale with shock she thought he might faint.

He made a helpless motion, like he wanted to push her away.

“No,” she hissed, “I came to talk to you.” She seized his hands to link them together as they danced.

“What have you done? You can’t be here! I’ll never get you out a second time.”

“I came to talk,” she insisted. “Tell me why you’re here with these Folk. Are you here of your own free will?”

“I’m paying the price,” he said hopelessly. “Free will doesn’t enter into it.”

“The price for what?” Hermione demanded. “What was the bargain you made with them?”

“We would have lost everything,” he said. “We didn’t have the money to pay the tax. The war nearly bankrupted us. We might have been able to rebuild if it weren’t for the tax, but...” he trailed off, his face twisted with bitterness. “We knew it would be our last year with the Manor. I went to look at what we’d lost... told Mother I’d be back in a few days, after I’d walked the whole property. Father and I were... are... not on speaking terms. So that’s why I was walking in the woods when they found me. The fae savour suffering like wine, so they were quite pleased to see me and inclined to have me stay. They offered me a gift, and I asked the Queen to keep the Manor in the family.”

Her face must have showed her horror.

“Yes. I didn’t know about faery gifts then. I didn’t know what might be asked of me in return. The gift I asked for was everything... everything I had left of value in my life. Now I know the price is always equal.”

“What does that mean, Draco?”

“The Queen will keep her promise,” he said. His eyes were grey hollows in the eerie light. “My mother will no doubt bear a child to replace me... the Manor will stay in the family.”

“To _replace_ you?”

“Yes. The Queen has a use for me.”

“Why are you dancing around the question, Draco?” Hermione demanded, and watched in shock as he began to laugh. He made a gesture that encompassed their helpless dance. She laughed a bit herself, surprised by how strongly she felt his small happiness. Despite the music and the movement, the festivity felt joyless.

“Tell me, please. What use? What will she do with you?”

He sobered instantly. “I’m to be a sacrifice. They make one every seven years. They prefer not to use a faery if they can help it, and I’m... convenient.”

Hermione gaped at him in horror.

“You can’t stay in this place, not if there’s something I can do to stop it.”

“There isn’t.”

She gave him a fierce look. If he had been Harry or Ron he would have known to stop there, but he continued. 

“You’ve just doomed yourself, coming back here. The Queen let you go once because she knew you were carrying her gift with you. Now that you’ve come back, she won’t make the same mistake again. You’ll never escape.”

“Draco Malfoy, you have no idea what I’m capable of,” she hissed, watching his eyes widen in shock. “You once thought I wasn’t worthy to do magic at all, and you were wrong then, too. Now tell me what you know about what she plans for you.”

He nodded, slowly. “On All Hallow’s Eve, we’ll travel to the place of sacrifice. It’s under the hill, just beyond the stone circle. We... they... go on horseback, on that night. If you waited at Miles Cross at midnight, you’d see the wild company passing. The first to the crossroads is the black rider, then a brown rider, then behind them will be me in sacrificial white.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione noticed the faery queen staring at them. She made a gesture and Hermione found herself moving toward her. The Queen’s face was severe and beautiful, eyes like the heart of a storm cloud. “Such a brave girl,” she said sweetly. “Such a clever witch, to find her way here a second time. Such bravery and cleverness merit a gift, do they not?” The Queen stretched a white arm to pluck a flower from a nearby plant, blooming despite the season. In her hands, it transformed into a glass flask, flared like flower petals at the base, tapering like a trumpet to the lip. It looked full of liquid moonlight, glowing pearl-like in the dark.

Hermione bowed and accepted it politely, knowing it must be cursed. She’d have to dispose of it in the forest before leaving. The Queen gestured back to the dance, and Hermione was whirled away into the steps. The music made her feel wild, and she knew she’d have to somehow get away before she got lost in it, as she almost had before Draco led her away the last time.

Almost as if her thought had summoned him, she found the white-haired wizard before her. He reached out and pulled her into his arms without asking, the sudden shock of a warm body in this cold night a comfort she hadn’t known she needed.

“I think I can distract them while you run,” he said. “You’ll have to be well away before you can think of Apparating. I wish... no matter how much it means to me to see a human face, Hermione, I wish you hadn’t come. I don’t want to go to the sacrifice with your death on my conscience.”

“I had to know what was going on, Draco. You don’t deserve this fate, and I had to know what was happening if I wanted to help you.”

“Help me? Why do you want to help me?”

She took a long pause, moving with him as the fae dancers spun around them like dry leaves on the autumn wind. “I would have tried to help you even if I didn’t want to, I think. No one deserves to die like this. But... I want to.”

He leaned closer. “... why, Hermione?”

She shook her head. “Because you finally admitted it.”

“What?”

“At the edge of the forest, when you guided me out. You said that I’m your own kind. It wasn’t something I ever expected to hear from you.”

He met her eyes, his gaze serious. “If anything, I was flattering myself when I said that.”

Hermione smiled. “Are you ready to leave? I think we should get to the edge of the circle before I activate this Portkey.”

Draco pulled back from her, his face a mix of relief and resignation. “I should have known you would come prepared. But I can’t come with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“A faery debt must be paid. I am bound to do as the Queen requires. Even if you somehow got me away, I would return before the sacrifice.” He reached to brush her face with his hand. “You took a terrible risk, and I’m grateful. Now go home, and please... try to tell my mother something kind.”

“There has to be a way. I made no deal with the queen. There’s something I can do, I’m sure of it.”

Draco bowed his head. “When we pass by the crossing at midnight, we will become visible. If you found a way to break the curse, and hid me until the sun rose, then the time of sacrifice would be past. They would have to choose one of their own and let me go. But it’s impossible. They’ll tear me away from you before the dawn. No human magic could conceal us.”

Her jaw was set. “You underestimated me once, Draco. Don’t do it again.” Her hand twitched toward her pocket, reaching for the Portkey, but he swiftly tangled his fingers with hers.

“No! The Queen’s gift... you have to drink it, Hermione. If you bring it home, or even if you pour it out in the forest, it will become a river at your feet and drown you.”

She smiled at him, then with great effort stopped dancing.

“I’ll see you on All Hallow’s Eve,” she said. Then she lifted the bottle to the Queen in salute and drank it down in a single draft, watching as the faery’s expression turned to rage. She stormed forward, but Hermione slipped her hand into her pocket and grasped the Portkey she’d borrowed from the Ministry for this purpose. Just as her hand closed, she saw that the Queen’s target wasn’t her, but Draco. Hermione threw an arm out to do something, cast a spell, anything, but it was too late. She was already being pulled and twisted sideways and upways and otherways to safety.


End file.
